Rise, Black Star
by AnastasiaPhoenix1678
Summary: She stared at the mirror. A cultured English woman stared back. There was Abigail. Akosua was almost dead. Her face held no remorse as her locks fell to the floor. The tale of Ghana, from Gold Coast, to independence and beyond.
1. 1867: Gone

**A/N: And now for something completely different...**

**A Mathematical Interlude:**

**The creator of APH is a man.**

**I am NOT a man.**

**Therefore, I did not create APH.**

**(bows) Thank you, thank you...**

* * *

Akosua hated the dark. Not necessarily the dark itself, but what it brought, and what it took. The dark, _kusuu, _had infiltrated her mother's home, taken her brothers and sisters.

_Kusuu _took her _maame. _And _kusuu _brought the voices.

She licked her lips, tasting the dried blood that had settled days ago. Her stomach moaned, the raw plantain that had been forced down in the morning already forgotten.

Hiding, the small child knew, was futile. The voices would find her. They always found what they were looking for. The voices had already taken so much away from her, it wouldn't be long.

But she had to, for her _maame's _sake. Small, shuddering breaths through her chapped lips, her tiny fingers holding tightly to the rough bark of the cocoa tree.

The toddler dug her nails into her bare arms, under the fraying _kente _dress. It wouldn't be much longer...

_BANG!_

Akosua quickly shoved her dirty first into her mouth in a desperate attempt to muffle her scream. The voices were closer, louder, angrier. She pulled her knees to her hot chest and buried herself under the tree.

_Thud...thud...thud..._

Her heart rate quickened instantly. Even closer now...

_Thud...thud..._

Warm, salty tears poured down her cheeks. _I want my maame..._

"Hello there, little one."

She shot up with a start. It was over.

This one was older, she decided, his gray hairs like tiny lights in the night. His face, white as coconut milk, was expressionless, as his cold fingers clamped down on her shoulder and forced her to a standing position. His voice irritated her, calling out loudly in the strange language of the _obroni_.

Another came. By this time, she didn't care for the faces of her captors. She just hoped they wouldn't hit her...

Few words were exchanged in the foreign jargon, then the dirt fell away from her as she was lifted up, and they began to walk.

Rushing water disturbed the girl's brief respite. Loosening her arms around the man's neck, she looked to see what had caused the stop in their journey.

It was a dark lump, bobbing in and out of the water. Even through the darkness, she understood what it was, a whine bubbling in her throat. She began in a desperate attempt to wriggle free from the _obroni's _grip. He did nothing but hold her tighter as they began to proceed once again.

She knew the thing, all too well. They called it a boat. She shuddered. It was a vicious thing, taking her people to far away lands, away from her heart, never to return. Tears flowed faster as the struggle became more fierce.

"No..." she moaned, using the only _obroni_ word she knew. "No, _no!" _

Her cries gained nothing but a cruel smack to the wrist and a reprimand from her captor. Nevertheless, she fought, legs kicking, arms punching, her throat slowly turning raw with her screams.

They couldn't take her away. They couldn't. They _wouldn't._

Still, the men proceeded, as solid ground turned to sand, then to the quivering deck of the boat. The young girl's eyes felt heavy, fatigue pulling her to its cold, unforgiving bosom, as she was placed firmly in a small room. The first man strapped something icy cold on her ankle, and pushed her head down, insisting for her to sleep.

The door slammed shut. The fight was over, and she had lost, she had failed her _maame_. _Kusuu_ had returned, the cruel mistress, leaving one word in the musty air.

"_Failure..._" she hissed. "_You are a shame to Africa."_

Akosua wept.

* * *

He wanted to get her out of his hands as soon as possible, Jennings concluded as he pulled the African's hand through the streets of London. She was being irritatingly difficult, dragging her feet in the ground, spitting on him, even biting him on one occasion, her black eyes narrowed in pure defiance.

"She's a little bugger, that one is," his partner, Thomas mumbled, echoing his own thoughts. He spat a bit of tobacco juice on the street and clucked his tongue. "Can't see the use of her, though." He paused, taking a quick look at her. "I mean, look how tiny she is!"

Jennings took a long drag from his cigarette, watching the faint rings float into the smoggy gray sky. The girl coughed softly, her tiny nose wrinkled in disgust. She _was _small, probably only three years old at most, but his boss knew more about these matters. He didn't need to question as long as he got paid for his work. He began to walk again.

"She's uncivilized," he responded slowly. "It's up to people like us to change people her. We don't want people like her running around like wild animals, breaking things and hunting animals and whatnot."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "So, we're doing her a favor."

Jennings took another drag. "Aye, we're doing them all a favor...ah, here we are." They stopped in front of their destination as the rang twice around the dull bronze towers of the Houses of Parliament. Jennings took his cigarette out and crushed it with his foot. "Oy! Look sharp, Thomas!"

Thomas removed his hat, revealing his pale dome of a head. "Get off! I'm sharp, I'm sharp...come on there, little bugger. We'll be rid of _you_ soon enough."

The girl spat again, her eyes hard as she followed the two into the large building, through many hallways, lined with old, fraying, photos of the distinguished. Soon, they arrived at a wide area, the windows open, allowing soft gray light to shine on the green walls. At a large hardwood dest, a woman, with a pear shaped figure and loose blond hair sat, long nails clicking on a typewriter.

She looked up. "Ah, Mr. Jennings, Mr. Thomas..." Her thin lips pinched into a frown as she noticed the toddler. "I...see you've...brought another one..." She stood, giving a heavy sigh. "I'll see if he's ready."

She then walked briskly to a hardwood door and entered her employers office. A few moments passed before she returned.

"Gentlemen," she murmured softy. "Mr. Kirkland will see you now."

* * *

She hated this place. It was too much.

Too gray, too crowded, too pale, and to top it all off, people kept blowing nasty smoke in her face.

The people here appeared to return the sentiment, giving her strange looks, avoiding her. Some of the _obroni_ women shook their heads when they saw her, as if in pity, which she couldn't quite understand.

But, she quickly forgot the looks as she was taken into a big place, with tall walls and towers made of gold. She was forced to wait once again in a tiny room, with _ebunebun _walls, the color of plantain skins, until the women in the dress called the two men in their strange language. Their faces were even whiter than before, she noted, following them through the large door.

However, she paused before she entered, staring at the sign on the door, fashioned in gold, with strange markings on it. Maybe she would decipher them, one day...

Voices now arose from the room behind the door. The two men she had been with sounded almost fearful, for some strange reason, at a third person's voice, another male. This one sounded younger, by far, his voice less coarse and irritating, but clear, smooth, and rather soothing.

And yet, there was something else... Akosua felt the barest tingle at the back of her neck.

_He is like me... _she realized. Her _maame_ had always told her that they were a different people, _adehyeman_, destined to live forever and care for their people. Her shoulders relaxed slightly as she listened to his voice.

More minutes passed as the men talked, keeping the girl behind the large wooden door, out of shyness and fear. She did hope that they would finish soon, as the woman with the yellow hair was giving her such a caustic look, as if her very presence was a source of impurity for the room, where everything was kept in perfect order. It was maddening.

But eventually, the two left as quickly as they had come, leaving Akosua alone in the silence. Gently sliding her feet on the creamy marble floor, she entered the office.

It was big. And bright, much brighter than the other room. The walls were the same pale plantain color, only with thin white stripes running from the ceiling to the floor, now almost as dark as her skin and smooth under her bare toes. Shiny things adorned the walls, covered in the same markings as before, and plated in gold. The window was open, bringing in the smell of rain and the powerful sound of rushing water.

It was too much like home.

Behind her, she heard footsteps. A door closing. Footsteps coming closer.

"Hullo."

It was the same voice, still strong, clear, and familiar. She slowly turned around, figuring that the word he had uttered was a greeting.

The two stood in silence as the girl took in the sight of the man who stood before her. He was young, probably just coming of age. His hair was the same yellowish color she was beginning to see more and more often, only it was spiky, like tiny spears, and fell over his forehead slightly. His clothes, like his room, were clean, starched and orderly, from his midnight black pants to his white shirt with a grey sleeveless shirt worn on top of it.

The most captivating thing about the man, Akosua saw, was his face. It was naturally rather pale, yet his cheeks were as rosy as hibiscus flowers. And his eyes... his eyes were two emeralds, the only source of vibrancy in the dull and orderly place. His gaze was piercing, and the way he scrutinized made her rather uncomfortable. There was a strange light to the gems, an expression that she couldn't place.

The man knelt down so that they made full eye contact. And that was when she noticed them.

Two large bushy things, placed perfectly above his amazing eyes, a source of imperfection. The girl felt herself exhaling quickly, a new reason had been found to smile after so long. But, she held it back, in fear of angering him.

The man put her hand on his chest. Akosua could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady. He gently lifted her chin, forcing her to stare into his eyes.

"_England._"

Akosua tilted her head slowly, confused at his actions. He sighed and put her tiny hand on his chest again. "_England._"

_He wants me to say the funny word...perhaps it is his name..._

She placed a hand on his chest. "Eng...land..." she responded slowly. Using the obroni language made her uncomfortable. Even though, the two repeated the action, until she could say his name clearly. He was very patient with her, though, and gentle, for which she was very grateful.

Next, he placed his own hand on her chest. Carefully, she wrapped her ebony fingers over his large ivory ones. They were so different, yet so the same... She looked at him, ready to see what he would do next.

"_Gold Coast_," he said slowly.

She had heard that name before. The obroni men who came to stay at her house would call her that. Some others would call her _Elmina_, after the large castle that they had built near the coast.

Slowly, she repeated his actions until she had succeeded in saying this name correctly as well. Appearing satisfied, he gently took her in his arms without another word and they left the room together, through the dark halls, and out into the grey.

There was a large box-like thing on wheels waiting for them by this them. A horse , strapped to the thing, stamped its hoof impatiently. England kept her securely on his lap as the box began to move through the bumpy roads. The constant jostling made her nauseous, however, and she began to squirm as time passed. The box did stop soon enough, but she felt rather dizzy, leaving her off balance.

They had stopped in front of a large white building, with a wooden sign placed in front. It was made of two sticks, one going straight down, and shorter one crossing it. She knew this sign, as many obroni people, pleasant and jovial, carrying the stick thugs and black books. They had told her of a very nice obroni man, who was kind and had special powers, who apparently loved her very much, and had died for her sake at one point. She liked the nice man.

His name was Jesus.

The inside of the building, was filled with colorful light, due to large windows with colored bits inside to make pictures. England told her quietly that the place was called a 'church', which she repeated accordingly.

At the very end of the room was a small pool of water and a man, his hair white as snow and eyes as blue as the sky. He was very kind, and took her gently from England's arms. He then closed his eyes and said some words. She recognized the word 'church' a few times in his speech.

Then, he took her to the pool of water and dipped her straight in. She wasn't scared, as she had been taught how to swim, and simply blew a torrent of bubbles through her nose until she was taken out of the water. She was then wrapped in a towel and returned to England's arms.

When they returned to the box, England situated the tiny girl on his lap and made her face him, and placed her hand on his chest again.

"_Arthur_," he said slowly, which she repeated. She liked his name, even if it was rather strange sounding.

He placed his hand on her chest, which was still damp. "_Abigail._"

She tilted her head in confusion. "No," she said clearly. Her name was Akosua, not this strange Abigail. She thought the name was very pretty, but it didn't suit her much at all.

Too obroni for her.

Arthur raised a bushy eyebrow, then shook his head.

"Abigail," he replied. His tone was more firm, almost demanding this time.

She remained quiet for the rest of the trip. Still, with each bounce of the road, her heart grew heavier and heavier.

_Why is he trying to change me? _

* * *

Akosua didn't understand how a house could be kept so immaculate. Everything in England's was either polished, folded, or arranged... Another splash of soapy water flowed over her head, forcing her eyes shut.

The house was themed with the colors red, white, blue, and green. There were many boxes of wood, the chairs and the plates were white as milk... She signed in relief as her hair was scrubbed firmly, loosening particles of dirt that had been lodged in her thick curls for an eternity.

The strange thing was the large amount of photos. They had always been such fascinating things, and she was very pleased.

No, the strange thing was that they were all of one person, a little boy, with smooth dirty blond hair and wide blue eyes. He seemed to smile quite a lot in the photos arranged in the house. She guessed he was special to Arthur in a certain way. Maybe she would ask him when she learned his obroni language...

"_Il est temps de sortir de la salle de bain, un peu._"

Akosua smiled as Matthew wrapped her in a warm towel. She had met the boy almost instantly, and quickly took a liking to his quiet demeanor and even temper.

The nice thing about England's house was that there were others like her. She had even seen a few of her sisters and brothers, including one of the eldest, now called South Africa, which made her very happy, as she was one of her favorite siblings. The reason she was staying at his house still eluded her, but she began to care less as she met more nice people.

By this time, Matthew had succeeded in placing the colony in a long pink dress, and pulled her hair into a neat braid that barely fell below her neck. The girl was then carried to a small room, with nothing but a small bed and a table next to it. Matthew took her and set her comfortably in the bed, placing the covers under her chubby arms and tucking her in snugly. Fatigue took over, causing the African to yawn, her eyes slowly drooping.

The Canadian stroked her sweaty forehead and placed a kiss on her nose. "Good night..."

She paused. "Good...night...M-Matthew..." she replied hesitantly. Her first obroni sentence. She giggled as his cheeks turned red. What funny expressions these people had!

And with that pleasant thought, she fell asleep.

* * *

She had woken with tears pouring down her face.

Arthur sighed, running a hand through his blonde hair, as he looked down at the girl, her face pulled in a pout, arms outstretched. It was barely past one. He had wanted to get her asleep for a while now, but she had woken up screaming, putting a halt to his plan.

He felt bad. Part of him wanted to take his new colony in his arms and rock her slowly to sleep, but...he couldn't.

Not after he had left.

The Englishman bit his lip, and sat down next to the girl, Abigail. He gently placed a hand on her head and laid it to her pillow.

Abigail whimpered, still crying. "_Maame..._"

A pang of guilt surged through him like a lightning strike. Mother Africa had disappeared months ago. Slowly, he wiped the tears away from her smooth cheeks and began to sing softly:

_Alas, my love, you do me wrong,_

_To cast me off discourteously..._

The girl's sobs lessened as the song continued, her black eyes wide as they watched him sing, his eyes closed, his thumb running circles on her back, until her breaths slowed and her head lolled into his lap.

Now came the hard part. Arthur pushed his bangs out of his eyes and placed his hands over hers. The shadows in the bedroom grew deeper as bright green light surrounded the African's body.

"_Dare mihi thesaurum...lacrimis adamas, sanguine sapphyro..._"

The girl twitched slightly, her sleep too deep to notice what was happening to her, as the emerald light enveloped her, surging for one last second, then fading, rushing into her chest. Cautiously, he swiped a finger against one stray tear on her sweaty cheek. As soon as it left her face, it hardened

A diamond.

The Brit rose and left without another word, leaving his newest colony, Gold Coast, little Abigail, to sleep, leaving her unaware of her role in the growing British Empire.

**So, yeah. It started as a oneshot...(cough) they always do...**

**Basically, I'll try to keep everything time-period specific...**

**...except for the music... -.-**

**Anyway, yeah! Hope you enjoy!**


	2. Now We Are Seven

**A/N: Part 2! **

**Me: Can I have the rights to APH!**

**Japan: No.**

**Me: Please?**

**Japan: No.**

**Me: (throwing temper tantrum) NO! I WANT IT I WANT IT I WAAANT IT!**

**Japan: '-_-**

* * *

Miss India was a strange woman indeed.

She arrived to the house unexpectedly, dressed in a blood red sari and bare feet, smelling strongly of curry and ginger. Aside from her mother, she was the prettiest woman Akosua had ever seen.

Maya was strong, she could see, and very smart. She knew lots of things, like how to catch bluebirds and how to get the stitches on embroidery _just right, _and she knew how to braid Akosua's hair in such a way that the braid turned inside and upside down. Little wonders that she performed, those pleased the African colony very much.

She hoped she could have at least half her beauty and knowledge when she was older.

* * *

Days at England's house, the seven year old thought as she woke that day, were rather methodical. Gold Coast would wake at around the sixth hour, wash up, dress in her standard apron and handkerchief, then tidy up the house. Her job was to clean the kitchen, both a curse and a blessing.

A blessing because she could sneak small butter toffees when no one was looking.

A curse because it was almost as messy in the bathroom. The girl soon realized that the Brit's kitchen was a dangerous place, mainly because it's master couldn't utilize it properly. She spent her time scrubbing hardened food particles off of various pots and pans, dusting the stove, and removing any leftovers from the sink drain.

After the cleaning job of hell...er...doing her chores, Akosua would go to Collecting. Collecting was where she and the other colonies in England's house would give up a portion of jewels and gold and other resources.

It was an exhausting process, almost like getting a shot every day. She would stand in front of England's desk, raise her hand, and let a torrent of treasures fall from her fingers. It was a strange power that she had somehow obtained back in 1867. She let the jewels fall until her knees wobbled and spots began to dance in her vision. Arthur would then write something down in a worn leather bound book, then let her go.

After that, she usually felt sleepy, but she still climbed the large winding staircase until she reached the library, where she remained until dinner.

Akosua loved the place. She adored finding old fairy tales, fingering the crinkled pages, admiring the pictures of beautiful obroni women in long gowns and brilliant tiaras and the handsome men with fancy clothes and razor sharp swords to protect their maidens.

Of course, it probably would be better if she could actually _read_ the stories, but pictures were nice as well.

And it was here that India found her, thumbing through an old volume about a woman with long hair.

Akosua looked up. "Hello, Maya."

The Indian, also dressed in an apron, gave a tired smile. "Hello, Akosua." she tilted her head. "What are you up to?"

The African yawned. "I'm reading."

"What about?"

She paused for a second and tugged at her braid out of habit. "Um, a lady with long hair...in a tower...and...other things..."

"Have you read this one before?"

She nodded. "Yes. A number of times, in fact."

India paused for a second, then began to laugh. Akosua felt her cheeks heat up as she crossed her arms over her chest. "What?"

Maya leaned against the doorway, struggling not to laugh again. "No...no..." She bit her lip, still grinning. "It's just so cute that you can't read yet..." She chuckled. "Wait here, I need to get something." And with that, she disappeared down the hall.

A few minutes later, she returned with an old sketch pad, a charcoal pencil stub, and a tiny bit of rubber. She then sat down next to the younger girl, her legs crossed.

"Here, watch," Maya instructed the girl. She then placed the charcoal to the paper and drew three lines: two slanted ones connected at one end and a third horizontal line between them.

"This," she said, holding up the paper, "is the letter A, as in..." Here she wrote more funny markings on the page. "...Abigail...or..." She wrote another series of letters. "...Annemarie."

Akosua's ears perked up at the English names of her sister South Africa and herself, and studied the large letter.

"A..." she repeated slowly. She then tugged at her braid again. "Why are we doin' this?

India turned the page and began to write again. "Well..." she said, not takin her eyes off the paper, "it's quite a bit of rubbish to look at books if you can't read, isn't it? So, I'm going to teach you." She raised a dark eyebrow. "Are you up for that?"

The African nodded.

"Good. Then let's continue."

And the two did continue. Maya and Akosua met in the library almost every afternoon at three o'clock for a full year, by which time, the younger colony had learned to read not only fairy tales, but the encyclopedia and the dictionary. She could write her full name in print and in cursive, and was able to locate herself on the globe, which was what she was currently occupied with one Saturday morning...

* * *

The seven year old blew a stray curl out of her face as she twirled the wooden globe with one finger, her gaze drifting lazily on the tiny chunk of land in West Africa she represented. She then located some of her sisters and brothers, and plopped down on the floor with a sigh.

Boredom, she concluded, was a cruel thing indeed.

She was basically alone in the house. England had taken the older colonies to the market, leaving her alone with Barbados, Sierra Leone, and Hong Kong. Two hours had passed, however, leaving Akosua in a room full of books having been read.

She sighed, then rose stiffly and wandered downstairs, in search of small candies that age could suck on. When she reached the kitchen, she pushed herself onto the counter and stood on the smooth tiles to reach the toffee jar, a skill that she had learned quickly. She then sat down, swinging her legs on the counter and rolling the buttery treat in her mouth.

"Ah, I hope they bring back some chocolate," she mumbled to herself. Chocolate was her most favored sweet. As her head was filled with visions of chocolate treats to go along with her toffee, her small fingers brushed against a tiny piece of paper under her blue skirt. The paper was crinkled, the writing faded, but still rather readable.

"_Mumsy's Scone Recipe..._" she muttered, reading the scrawly handwriting. She raised a dark eyebrow. "What's a mumsy?" she wondered aloud as she kept reading.

"Hmmm..." she bit her lip. "One cup of sugar..."

The girl then froze. There was finally something to do! Cooking didn't seem all that hard, she had seen her family do it before.

Maybe she could also figure out why Arthur's scones upset her stomach so as well...

Akosua slid from the counter onto the cool floor and went into a cupboard and pulled out the sugar bag. She then brought a chair from the dining room and pushed it to the counter, giving her more freedom to get whatever she wanted. The paper also read for two cups of flour. She then reached into the cabinet and hefted the large sack on the counter. A large puff of the stuff flew out, whiting out her cheeks and causing her to sneeze.

And so it went. After twenty minutes, the African colony had rounded up all the ingredients she needed, including a large bowl, a wooden spoon, baking sheet, and measuring instruments. She was about to spoon out a cup of flour when she heard a voice behind her.

"Abigail? What are you doing?"

She nearly fell off her chair at the sound and slowly turned. Hong Kong stood in the kitchen doorway, hands stuck in the pockets of his breeches. She took a deep breath, still slightly shaken up.

"Um..well...I'm cooking..." she choked out. She then walked over to her brother with a pleading expression. "You won't tell, will you?"

Leon blew a strand of brown hair from his face, his expression unreadable as always. "I suppose..." he said slowly. His large eyes blinked twice. "Can...I help?"

A large grin spread over the girl's face. "Yes, please!" She then cast a look to the various ingredients on the counter. "I think I'll need more help, though. Can you get Robyn and Sarah to help too?"

The Asian nodded and sped down the hall. In a few minutes, the four seven year olds stood on chairs against the counter. They all wore aprons about seven sizes too big.

Gold Coast grinned at her siblings. "You all ready?"

Sierra Leone, who lost her two front teeth recently, showed her gap proudly. Barbados pushed her beaded micro braids out of her dark face and gave a cheery grin. Even Hong Kong cracked a half smile. They all nodded.

"Come on, then! We don't have all day!" And with that, the four began.

* * *

The smell was what first made India suspicious. It wasn't the smell of something burning, or rotting, but it actually smelled...good. The scent reminded her of the tandoori naan she liked to bake on special occasions. After she had put the various things that had been gathered at the market away, she ventured into the kitchen to see what the source of the scent was.

A plate sat on the counter, which appeared to be washed clean. Triangular piles of pastry sat atop one another, still warm.

India raised an eyebrow. "Not burnt," she murmured to herself. Her long fingers then broke a tiny piece off of a pastry and tentatively raised it to her lips.

It actually tasted..._good..._

Her brown eyes widened as she took another piece. But...this was impossible! There was no way that _Arthur _could cook something with flavor...and taste...by himself.

She then heard footsteps in the doorway. _Speak of the devil..._

She turned. "Sir, did you make these?"

The Englishman raised a thick eyebrow at the plate on the counter. "No, I didn't..." He then took a piece. "They taste like the ones that I make, though..."

India had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. "Uh huh...yeah, sure..." She heard footsteps behind her once again, this time it was Hong Kong in the doorway. The strange thing was, however, that he was covered head to toe in white powder.

England approached his Asian colony, arms crossed. "Leon?"

Hong Kong sneezed. "Yes, sir?" India had to silently applaud the boy for his straight face.

"Did you make these?"

A pause. The boy looked from India, to the counter, to England again.

"It was Abigail's idea."

England sighed and walked out the kitchen to the large staircase. "Abigail?"

No answer.

"Young lady, you have exactly five seconds to come down here!"

A loud thump was heard upstairs.

"One..._two..._"

Loud footsteps bounded down the hallway.

"_Three..._"

"I'm here! I'm here!" The girl sped down the carpeted steps, smoothing out her dress. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she gave her sweetest smile, standing up straight, hands clasped behind her back.

"Hello, sir," she said, giving a tiny curtesy. "How was your day out today?"

The Brit raised an eyebrow. "Did you use the kitchen while we were out?"

Abigail looked down at her feet. "Yes, sir."

"Why?"

She took a deep breath. "Because I finished my chores and I had nothing else to do, sir." She lifted her gaze from the floor. "I cleaned the kitchen again when I was done. Just...don't get mad at Leon or Sarah or Robyn, it _was _my idea." She lowered her head again. "I'm sorry..."

A few seconds of silence passed, until England gave a sigh and knelt down to her level and lifted her chin.

"It's okay," he said softly. "I just don't want you to get hurt. Do you understand?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes, sir." She sneezed again.

England gave a soft smile. "Hey. I'll tell you what. You can use the kitchen as long as I'm home to watch you. Is that alright?"

Abigail returned the smile. "Yes, sir."

By this time the area was almost completely empty. Slowly, the man rested his hand atop the girl's head and smoothed it over, his green eyes filled with an almost...caring expression. He held the gaze for a few minutes, then appeared to shake himself, stiffly rose, and left the room again, leaving the two girls alone.

As India ran up the stairs, she kept her gaze on the African colony. Running her fingers through her dark hair and pulling out a stray pin, she shook her head.

This colony was different, she knew. This colony, Gold Coast, had more power than she realized.

"Even if just for a moment.." she murmured. "The lamb has tamed the lion."


	3. Grow a Little, Know a Little More

**A/N: (finishes pasta trap) Heh heh... this'll work just fine...**

**N. Italy: Ve! (sniffs) Pasta senses, tingling!**

**Me: (rubbing hands) Heh heh heh...**

**(SNAP)**

**N. Italy: (upside down)**

**Me: (searches) Where are they?**

**N. Italy: (eating pasta) Huh?**

**Me: The rights to APH?**

**N. Italy: Japan didn't want me to keep it after I lost them two weeks ago...**

**Me: -_- (facepalm)**

* * *

"Ow! Michael, watch where you're going!" a certain ten year old colony hissed at her brother.

Michael, or Nigeria, rolled his eyes. "It's a small room. I'm gonna keep bumping into you whether you like it or not, Akos," he replied passively, not looking up from the floor they were sweeping.

Akosua sighed. "I know," she replied, annoyed, "just watch it, okay!"

Nigeria shook his head. "Geez, touchy..."

The two then resumed sweeping the hall closet in silence, until the two bumped again a few minutes later.

"OW!" she cried again. She stopped and crossed her arms over her chest.

The eleven year old dropped his straw broom in annoyance. "Akosua! What is your problem?"

The girl blew a strand out of her face. "Nothing, it just...hurts, is all..."

"What hurts?"

Akosua scratched her head. "My chest. It's been sore for about a couple weeks now, but it really hurts now for some reason."

Michael came over to his sister, his brow furrowed in concern in the dim light. "This has been going on for weeks now? Does it hurt to breathe?"

She shook her head. "No, it's just sore on the outside, when someone touches it." She gave a weak smile. "Sorry I'm being a brat about it. It's not really a big deal."

The boy grabbed his sister's hand. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"To the one person who can help you. I don't wanna hear you whining all day."

Akosua resisted the urge to roll her eyes as she was dragged down the bedroom hallways. "Nwoye, I'm pretty sure that Maya isn't the 'only person' who can help me..."

The boy remained silent upon hearing his sister's accusation. It was a well known fact that he had a crush on India ever since he arrived in England; his pride kept him from admitting anything, though.

After passing a few doors, her brother stopped and quickly knocked at the one at the end of the hall. The door opened, releasing the sweet scent of jasmine and India in her house dress.

She smiled. "Hello, Michael, Abigail. What brings you here today?"

Akosua felt her brother's temperature increase rapidly. "Um...uh...well, you see...she...uh..."

Akosua rolled her eyes at her brother's momentary stupidity and stepped in. "My chest has been hurting a lot. We wanted-er, Michael brought me here to see if you knew what was wrong." (Hey, she could be nice to her brother when she wanted to be).

Maya smiled pleasantly at him. "Goodness, you're so sweet, caring about your little sister like that! Here, come in, Abigail, and I'll see what's wrong with you." With that, she was ushered into her friend's room, leaving her older brother looking like he was about to melt through the floor.

As soon as the door closed, India chuckled a little. "Ah, young love..."

Akosua burst out laughing. "Did you see his face when you told him that? He probably would have fainted after a few more..." She began to laugh even harder, tears streaming down her face.

Maya snickered and wiped the tears from the smaller girl's cheeks. "Ah, who knows? He could be a handsome man one day. So what's this I hear about your chest hurting?"

Akosua took a few deep breaths to regain her composure, then began. "Well, it hurts when I bump into things or touch it."

"And how long has this been going on?"

"About a few weeks?"

A pause. "Can you remove your dress, please?"

The younger did as she was told. When she was only in her panties, Maya held her shoulders and stared intently at her chest, which, Akosua realized, had become swollen. A smile spread across Maya's face.

"You need a brassiere," she said, her eyes shining.

"A _what_?"

* * *

Akosua kept her gaze on Arthur as the carriage bumped on the cobblestones. He had said nothing throughout the entire trip, which worried the girl. Every time he caught her gaze, his face would turn a lovely cherry color, and he would break the gaze.

She honestly didn't know what the big deal was. A brassiere, India had told her, was a contraption worn under the dress to hold your breasts in place. The reason her chest had been hurting so much was because her breasts were finally growing, which meant she was growing up, or something like that.

She had been excited, however, to go to town, since she didn't go often. The gray skies of London kept her occupied for the rest of the journey.

After half an hour, the carriage stopped near the side of the road, at a sidewalk. Akosua raised her navy blue cloak over her eyes and got down from the carriage. As soon as Arthur got down, she held his hand, in order not to get lost. His hand stiffened for a second at her touch, then relaxed ever so slightly as they walked.

It was a strange quirk that she and the other colonies had noticed quickly. The man wanted to avoid any physical contact with them if he could help it. No one really knew why... she almost tripped on a large cobblestone, bringing her back to the present.

And that was when she began to notice things.

At first, she noticed that it was rather strange that there had been so few people on the sidewalk that day. Then she realized that people had been giving her a wide berth. She raised an eyebrow. She wasn't sick. And she had just taken a shower that morning!

As they walked, they passed a man standing next to a fruit display. When he saw Arthur, he tipped his brown hat and greeted him accordingly. Since the man was being so polite, Akosua thought it would be good to reciprocate his greeting. So, she lifted her cloak hood and gave him a sweet smile.

She was met with a scowl. As soon as she saw it, she put her hood back on, cheeks hot as coals. Her gaze remained downcast until she tripped on a large wooden beam at the entrance of the ladies shop. She looked up. The letters of the sign were yellowed and faded, making the title indiscernible. When Arthur opened the door, a tiny bell rang, and a blast of musty air ambushed her, releasing a torrent of sneezed and coughs.

The place was relatively dark, the only light provided by two windows on the street side of the room. She pulled out her hanky and honked into it as she inhaled more dust. To her left was a large hardwood desk, where an equally large woman sat, with a rumpled pink dress and a thick layer of makeup. At the sound of the tinny bell ringing, she rose, and gave a saccharine-sweet smile at Arthur. Slightly worried, Akosua kept her hood on to mask her face.

"Ah," the lady in pink began. "A lovely man and his daughter! And how can I help you today, sir?"

Akosua wrinkled her nose. The woman had the voice of nails down a chalkboard. Arthur let go of her hand and cleared his throat.

"Ah, yes..." he responded slowly. "My...er...she needs to be fitted for a brassiere..."

The woman rose from her chair and walked towards Akosua, causing her heart to race wildly. "Aren't we a pretty little lady, then?" Her breath was laced with cigar smoke and wine. Akosua held her breath.

Arthur nudged her softly in her back. "Abigail, mind your manners."

She bit her lip, cheeks on fire. She knew things would go badly when she removed her hood, but she had no choice to comply. Slowly, she exposed her face, black as night, and gave a tiny curtsey. "Pleasure to meet you, ma'am."

The girl inwardly cringed as a look of disgust washed on the lady's face, then disappeared as quickly as it came.

"Hmm," the woman's smile was less broad. "Alright, come along, little lady..." She then proceeded behind a dusty, plum colored curtain near the back of the store.

Akosua hesitated and slowly backed up into her guardian's legs. He gave a soft sigh.

"Abigail, don't be shy..." He gave her a gentle push. "Go on."

She inwardly groaned and proceeded, knees wobbling, behind the dusty curtain.

* * *

Three other woman were there, each sitting at a sewing machine, various colors of cloth and skeins of thread strewn about them like cobwebs. The first woman plopped herself on a chair with wheels, measuring tape in hand. Her smile was completely gone, leaving a scowl in place.

"Alright, arms out!" she barked sharply, making the girl's cheeks burn even more. She could feel tiny tears already forming, but willed them back.

_You can do this, Akos, _she told herself. _Don't be a baby..._

The woman scrutinized her closely, although it appeared she was having difficulty with the measurements. She sat back, annoyed.

"Oy, Marjorie!" One of the ladies called from her sewing station. "Why don't you 'ave her remove the dress?"

Marjorie looked up and raised a thin, silvery eyebrow. "And risk catchin' one of the diseases?" She shook her head, clucking her tongue. "Honestly, you can never tell where _she's _been all day..."

The African's eyes widened as her heart clenched. How could she talk about her like she wasn't even there? 'Carrying diseases' like a common animal!

Hesitantly, she cleared her throat. "Er...ma'am...I can assure you I'm not ill..."

Marjorie paused and gave her an irritated look. "And did I ask for _your _opinion?" she snapped. She checked the tape measure and wrote something on her palm, muttering: "Bloody little n-..."

Akosua heart stopped. That word.

She_ knew_ that word.

Suddenly, it came in a torrent. The sound of whips cracking, people screaming, crying, cursing.

Warm blood on skin.

_Her_ blood.

_Her_ tears.

The world tipped. She found herself on the floor, breaths becoming shorter with every second. She felt her arms wrap around her stomach as she tried desperately to regain her composure. Muffled voices, telling her to get the bloody hell up so they could get this over with, screams, footsteps. She felt her body being cradled, arms strong and secured.

She wept the entire way back to the carriage, her hood down.

* * *

He cursed himself for taking her out. He cursed his people for being so ignorant.

His colony sat across from him, black eyes rimmed with pink, almost swollen shut. Arthur's heart went out to her. Her face was the perfect image of misery, even in the rare spot of sunlight.

Minutes passed, the only sound being the heavy breathing through Abigail's thoroughly blocked nose. Arthur pulled out his already soiled hanky and held it to her nose.

"Blow."

She sat up weakly and complied. Afterwards, she pulled her bare toes under her dress and hugged her knees to her chest. She then inhaled.

"England?" she whispered.

He blinked. "Mm-hm?"

She bit her lip and stared directly at him.

"Why do people hate me?"

The question took him by surprise. The girl's eyes seemed darker than ever, intense, focused, violating.

_Just like her mother..._

Moments turned into seconds, which became minutes. Finally, he spoke.

"Ah...well...Abigail..." He sighed. "People act the way they do because...they're scared..."

The girl wrinkled her nose. "Scared?"

"Scared...because...you're different..." He paused. "Humans aren't usually comfortable with people who are different."

She scoffed. "That's stupid."

He gave a weak smile. "Stupid, but true."

Abigail looked up, the sun illuminating the stray teardrops on her eyelashes. "God says we're supposed to love our neighbors." It came out almost like an accusation.

"Yes, He does," he murmured. "But it can be very hard sometimes." She looked down again. "See here, Abigail, keep your chin up. Not everyone is like those people. You just keep being polite and kind to everyone."

She gave him a skeptical look. "Even when it's hard?"

He nodded. "_Especially _when it's hard."

Abigail said nothing, but looked out the window again, her face giving the illusion of deep, pensive thought.

England followed her example, his green irises racing over the landscape.

_She's becoming aware... _He realized. This is how the rebellions always began, with knowledge.

He couldn't let that happen again. He had to keep her, all of them, in the dark.

He had to keep them in the dark, just a little longer.


	4. Daughters of the Great Warrior

**A/N: If I had the rights to APH, I could have published a novel by now...**

* * *

Akosua woke up unpleasantly that morning.

Sure, some would argue that being woken up to your little sister was cute, and maybe it was.

But the idea of _cute_ goes kind of out the window when said sister's face is about 20 millimeters from yours and she breathes like a smoker.

So, Akosua woke up to her sister's hazel eyes staring intensely into her and jumped nearly three feet out of bed.

Kenya sat back on her heels, her brown-black hair tied back and falling over her head like a halo.

"I'm bored," she stated petulantly.

Gold Coast's eye twitched involuntarily. "Okay, then," she shot back, her voice still thick with sleep. "What do you want me to do about it?"

Sarabi crossed her arms over her pink nightgown. "I'm bored," she repeated simply.

The twelve year old groaned and began to rub the sleep from her eyes, the crust from her eyelids falling to form tiny golden flakes on her arms. Her ten year old sister was someone grown ups would call 'headstrong'; she called it 'stubborn as a mule'. Kenya, in a sense, was the type of person to make sure everyone knew when she was uncomfortable.

If Kenya wasn't happy, nobody was.

The older girl rubbed her eyes. "Okaaay...why are you bored?"

Sarabi rolled her eyes at her sister as if she was an idiot. "Because. Everyone's out except for the younger boys, and boys are bloody gross, so I didn't want to play with them...well, except Kyle, but he was asleep, and all he ever wants to do is wrestle anyway, so you're the only one left, and I-"

Gold Coast slapped a hand over her sister's mouth, having heard enough. She rose on shaky legs, discarding her wrinkled nightgown for a simple blue dress and apron. After she tied her handkerchief over her wild thick curls in a shabby braid, she unceremoniously grabbed her sister from under her shoulders and threw her over her own.

"Hey!" Kenya screeched, "that tickled! And...stop...b-bouncing!"

Gold Coast smirked. "You shouldn't have gotten me up early, then."

And so, for twenty minutes, the two traversed through the mansion, in search of something, anything to do. Finding something to satisfy her hyperactive sister was a daunting task, though. When they went to the library, there were no 'good books' to read. The kitchen? Too messy. Needlework? Too pointy.

Finally, as the old grandfather clock resounded with seven loud bongs in the living room, Akosua collapsed facedown on a lace footrest dramatically.

"Well," she spat. "You were bored...and I helped you. You didn't want to do anything. So, let me go bed. Now."

No answer.

She raised her head, her handkerchief slipping over her eyes. "Sari, did you hear me?"

Meanwhile, her sister had been poised at the large window, focused intently on something outside. As a silence lulled in the air, Akosua could swear she heard a faint thock, thock, through the window.

"Sari, what's that noise?" she asked, looking out the window.

Her sister said nothing, but pointed to a row of trees at the right, near the edge of the forest.

Outside, in the gray, a figure stood, long dress rippling in the wind. Soft, wavy brown hair fell down her shoulders.

Akosua raised an eyebrow at her sister. "So, South's here?" She narrowed her eyes. "That means you woke me up for-"

Sarabi put a finger to her lips. "Sh. Watch."

Akosua gave a dramatic sigh and complied. Looking closely, she realized her older sister had something strapped to her back, a pouch of some kind. She reached behind her and pulled out a long rod. In her other hand, she held a moon-shaped object, as big as her upper body. She then placed the rod to the half-moon, elongated it, and let the rod fly, hitting the tree in front of her with a thock.

Akosua closed her eyes as she let the sound run through her. It was like smelling the scent of a favored meal you ate a while back, bringing back thick and muddled memories. She had heard that sound, probably eons ago, but it sent a sense of warmth through her, one she hadn't felt for a while.

Sarabi grinned and beckoned towards the window. "Let's go see her!"

The two then bolted outside the front door, around the house to the backyard where South Africa stood, pulling out another rod.

Sarabi smiled and raised her hand. "Thando!"

At the sound of her name being called, the teenager jumped, dropping the moon thing in apparent shock. Clutching her heart, she turned and gave her sisters a weak smile.

"Ah...uh...I didn't realize you two were awake..." she said shakily. "Good morning."

Kenya smiled and grabbed the moon thing from the damp grass. "What's this?" she asked, scrutinizing it closely.

South Africa scratched the back of her neck. "A bow..." she replied slowly.

"And these?" She motioned to the sticks in the sack.

"...arrows..."

Gold Coast raised an eyebrow. "You're acting suspicious..." She said slowly. "Where did you get these?"

South Africa raised her chin defiantly. "What's it to you?" She asked, her pugnacious spirit beginning to resurface.

Her younger sisters crossed their arms over their chests. "You stole them from somewhere, didn't you?" Kenya asked.

Silence floated through the three, interwoven with the gentle fog settling on the ground, giving the fields an eerie, almost alien atmosphere. The older colony said nothing, but pressed her lips in a firm line.

"What's gonna keep you quiet?"

Kenya smirked. "Let us try! Let us try!" She squealed, absently playing with the bow.

South Africa paused, then shook her head in a weak attempt to hide a small smile. "Fine, whatever. Just make sure you listen to me carefully. These things can be dangerous. I don't wanna take you home with an arrow in your leg, got it?"

Gold Coast and Kenya nodded.

"Alright, then," Here, she plucked the bow out of her younger sister's small hands. As she did, Akosua noticed with a shock that the shade of her older sister's long, slender fingers was actually lighter than Kenya's. She wrinkled her nose. It definitely hadn't been that way a couple years ago. Cautiously, she stared into her sister's face. Gentle dark spots were beginning to form under her eyes. She looked older, tired, ill even.

"Thando?" She asked, her voice shaking.

She blinked, standing straighter. "Yes, Akos?"

"Are you okay? I mean, are you feeling okay?"

The teen looked down, letting her dark brown hair fall over her face. What were mere seconds felt like hours as they passed.

"Yes, Abigail, I'm fine."

Akosua inhaled sharply. Her voice was shaky, and barely audible. She knew, just knew she was lying, but she held her tongue anyway, not wanting to upset her.

"Can I go first?" Kenya asked, jolting Gold Coast from her thoughts.

South Africa smiled. "Of course." She handed her the bow once again, and a single arrow.

"Okay, so first, you..." She began, but Kenya stopped her.

"I've got it," she replied. Looking at her sister, Akosua noticed a change in her demeanor as soon as the bow touched her fingers. Sarabi took a stance, her back straight, eyes narrowed, upper lip curled in concentration. It was like she had matured from age ten to seventeen in mere seconds. The bow was a part of her, a part of _them_...

Instantly, Sarabi put the arrow to the string, pulled back, and let it fly. It settled into the tree, next to Thando's arrow in the dead center of the trunk. She stood, frozen, for a full minute afterwards, eyes glassy, until she shook herself. Slowly, she stepped back, and handed the bow to Akosua. The West African colony observed her sister shaking violently.

"Sari?" She asked, concerned for her sister's well being. "What's wrong? What happ-"

"I'm fine," she nearly choked out, her voice clogged with emotion. "You'll...understand..."

Akosua looked at her older sister, question in her eyes, but received nothing but a single arrow. When she clutched the bow in her sweaty palm, warmth, like an embrace, spread from the roots of her hair down to her toes. Slowly, automatically, she put the bow to the string, drew it to her cheek, and let it fly.

And time stopped.

And she saw her.

Almost like a dream, she saw a woman, buxom and curvaceous, wielding a bow twice as large as the one she held. Her skin was as blackened and deepened as the midnight sea, eyes black and shining like precious jewels. Her hair, oh her hair, it was amazing, wild, dark, free, with thick wiry curls like her own, yet soft and supple like a lion's pelt. She wore a simple dress, reaching mid-thigh, with red, black, and green patterns. Her body was taut, muscular, marked with tattoos on her biceps, ankles, thighs, and cheeks. As the arrow hit its mark, she lowered the bow and smirked, a warrior victorious in yet another challenge.

Akosua's heart stopped. "Maa?" The bow landed on the ground, forgotten. The sudden image of Mother Africa, who had nearly dissipated from her memory years prior, was too much for her. Her knees gave out, and she found herself on the ground.

Instantly, her two sisters were at her side. A tear gently slid down her cheek.

"Maa," she croaked. "I saw Maa..." She felt drained, and laid down in South Africa's lap. "I saw her..."

"I know," Kenya whispered. "I-Isn't she beautiful, Akos?" She smoothed her hair absently.

"How could I..." More tears fell. "How c-could I forget...her..."

She felt the dull sensation of small circles drawn on the small of her back. "It's okay, Akos," Thando said. "It's been...a while since..."

Since we were taken away. Akosua shut her eyes tightly, the painful memory of the night she was brought to England flooding back like a freshly opened wound. She remembered being alone, _kusuu_ covering her like a thick, merciless fog.

Alone.

Without her maa.

"Th-Thando," she whispered.

"Yes, love?"

She bit her lip so firmly it began to bleed.

"Where's Maa? I mean, where did she go?"

A shadow passed over the young woman's face. She bowed her head, her breaths short, shallow.

"Will we ever see her again?" Sarabi asked.

The air felt colder, the _wind_ grew to a sharpened blade. The teen exhaled a sharp breath.

"I...don't know."

Akosua heard _I don't know_, but she had a feeling that it was really _never again_.

* * *

**Let's recap with the characters so far...  
Thando=Annemarie=South Africa  
Sarabi=(Emily)=Kenya  
Nwoye=Michael=Nigeria  
Akosua=Abigail=Gold Coast  
Sarah=Sierra Leone  
Robyn=Barbados  
Maya=India**

**Kyle=Australia**

And yes, Mother Africa's first appearance! She'll be back, sort of, don't worry :)


End file.
